


Patriotic Duty

by Leblanc1 (orphan_account)



Category: Homeland
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-24
Updated: 2017-06-24
Packaged: 2018-11-18 13:51:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11291973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Leblanc1
Summary: It's a hot, humid day in Brooklyn where Carrie and Quinn are living together in the wake of 6.12. Canon consistent but NO DEATH. We're going with innocuous shoulder wounds in this universe.A short one-shot with smut, fluff, banter, and HAPPINESS, dammit!In response to the prompt by gnome_cat on LJ Homeland Stuff: http://homelandstuff.livejournal.com/82736.html#comments





	Patriotic Duty

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first real writing since 6.12. Be kind. Trying to get my muse back. All constructive comments are welcome and appreciated.

From the kitchen window, she spotted him lounging outside in the small postage stamp garden of the brownstone, his mirrored sunglasses reflecting the green of the Heineken bottle he gripped in his left hand - his most recent rehab accomplishment - fingers flexing around the bottle in a studied exercise, something he’d never do if he knew she was watching him.

Carrie’s eyes flicked over him - all six-foot-two of tanned, glistening perfection - and ducked out of her crossbody bag and blazer in frustration before opening the back door and loudly thunking down the steps to the garden.

“It’s fucking ninety-five degrees, Quinn. What are you doing out here?”

Quinn slowly lowered his sunglasses down his nose to gaze at her shadowing figure above him. “Carrie, we really need to work on your greeting strategy.”

Carrie snorted, “I’m hot, I'm tired, and I need a drink. Are you trying to defy global warming because you’re not gonna win that fight, Quinn. Even you. It’s too hot for this,” Carrie exclaimed sweeping her arm in the air over his prone body.

Quinn readjusted his sunglasses back into place, slowly took a drink of his beer, and tilted his face to the sun, half-dismissing her. “Try the Syrian desert in August, Mathison. This is fuckin’ paradise.”

“I’m glad _one_ of us is enjoying it. Quinn, do you know how the subway smells right now? It’s like a summertime convention for every disgusting odor produced by humanity down there.”

The corner of Quinn’s mouth tilted upward almost imperceptibly. “I wouldn’t know. President Keane has made Duane and his Suburban available at my beck and call.”

“I’m aware. Explain to me how I'm the dutiful civil servant cleaning up after her paranoid ass and dealing with six - _six_ \- simultaneous investigations for the mess caused by your fucking mentor. Meanwhile, because you’re some kind of national treasure Keane gifts _you_ with a Secret Service driver.”

Quinn sighed, setting down his beer. “Carrie, take a load off. You’re blocking my sun.”

Carrie choked out a laugh. “You’re serious?”

“I’m serious,” Quinn said before grasping her wrist and tugging her down to sit at the side of the lounge chair. He raised his right hand to the side of her neck, digging in his fingers to release the tension. She exhaled audibly as her eyes slowly closed. “That’s better,” Quinn murmured softly.

“And how is Duane?” Carrie finally managed when his hand stilled a few moments later, absently stroking her bare arm.

“Y’know he told me today that they’d doubled the depth of bullet proof glass in every Secret Service vehicle in my honor. It’s a fleet of fuckin’ Popemobiles now.”

“Yeah, well, some of us choose not to waste the taxpayers money. No one is after you, or her, anymore.”

“In case you forgot, I am an _action hero_ , Carrie. Check out CNN. I’ve got an entire country rooting for my recovery and my happily-ever-after ending. This _is_ my work.”

“Sunbathing?”

“Yes,” Quinn nodded. “While I practice my beer grip and plot to get you naked. Physical and psychological happily-ever-after. See, I am your mission. Operation PQ Happiness.”

“Funny, I don’t recall negotiating a salary for this mission.”

“There are intrinsic rewards, Carrie. It’s your patriotic duty to aid in my recovery. The hope of a country is in your hands.”

“It’s my patriotic duty to get you into air conditioning before we both die of heat stroke.” Quinn’s hand continued to distractedly stroke Carrie’s arm and she smiled in spite of herself and kicked off her heels, feeling the warmth start to spread from the inside. “I’m hot and sweaty, Quinn. I’m not doing anything with you before I shower.”

“Let’s be hot and sweaty together,” Quinn replied before trailing two fingers around the neckline of her sleeveless blouse. “Nice skirt, by the way.”

Carrie’s breath caught for a second before focusing. _How does he always do this to me_ she wondered. “Skirts are cooler than pants... where’s Franny, anyway?:

“Play date. We’ve got an hour.”

“The neighbors will see.”

“The neighbors would love it,” Quinn replied while gathering her on top of him.

“I think I need a raise,” Carrie smiled down into his face and pushed his sunglasses to the top of his head so that she could see his eyes. “You’re looking pretty happy to me, Peter Quinn,” she said before placing a kiss on the side of his neck, a sharp pang of desire rippling through her as she tasted the salt of his skin.

When she raised her head, his blue eyes were dancing, and she could feel him hardening against her hip. He put his hand to the side of her face and let his thumb slide gently over her lower lip before softly kissing her, lingering at the end. “I am,” he whispered.

Carrie backed her head slightly, surprised by his admission. They were still getting use to this - the honesty and intimacy. She raised an eyebrow. “Well, then, my work here is done.”

“Nah,” he replied, nudging her off him and pushing them both to their feet, “there’s always room for improvement, Carrie. And you’re an overachiever.”

She trailed after him as they headed inside. As she followed him up the stairs, she noted that his limp was barely detectable. Her eyes settled on his backside in the thin navy swim trunks. Suddenly the headiness of the heat and humidity, his recovery, and their newfound ease with one anther nearly overwhelmed her. When he shut the door behind them, she backed him against the counter of the kitchen island and kissed him, open mouthed and carnal, while shoving her blouse off her shoulders. “Now, Quinn,” she whispered into his mouth, panting slightly.

Quinn had the audacity to chuckle at the turn of events before pivoting and lifting her to the cool counter, smoothly pulling off her underwear and hiking up her skirt. She wasn’t sure when he got his swim trunks off but before she knew it he was inside of her, and they both groaned in the joining — flushed, sweaty and a little surprised by the urgency. The only thing that had come easy for them was this, and it still shocked them both how their physical compatibility just _happened_.

He wasn’t gentle - he knew she didn’t want that - it was about fucking and the roughness of his thrusts caused her to gasp and keen when a sharp orgasm quickly ripped through her body. He followed shortly with a guttural groan before collapsing upon her.

It took a while, a long while, before he raised his head, still inside her, eyes dazed as he took in her damp face and reddened face. “I’ll put in for your raise.”

Carrie smiled, serenely as she trailed a hand down the side of his neck. “It's my patriotic duty, Quinn. Now get off me so we can shower.”

Quinn laughed and Carrie reveled in the sound. As he led her upstairs she thought absently that she would keep this job. Forever.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, thanks to @ascloseasthis for editing.  
> And thanks to @gnome_cat for the inspiration. It IS very hot in NYC today!


End file.
